Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Tupelo 7/30: My Skunk Hour

Dear Reader, 

Confession: If I was not doing Tupelo's 30/30, I would not have written/finished a draft for today. 

I write complete each of the poems the night before they're do, like having read the assignments before class (I can't escape the student/teacher in me). 

And last night, I *started* working on a poem around 8:15pm, after a preschool field trip, which included an accident (read: pee-soaked sneakers, etc), trying to work on an end-of-year report during my three-year-old's one-hour nap, and the general chaos of running a household. 

If I was doing a private poem-a-day challenge, as I've done in the past, I would have given myself a pass. I had done some research, sketched a few notes, made a noble effort on a day that had sapped so much physical and emotional energy. 

Because this is a public challenge and so many people are reading (and rooting for me!), my own pride/ego/ambition/persistence/vanity/etc. refused to bail. 

And by midnight, I had finished a draft. Is it a great poem? No. Is it something that I didn't have before and could totally work with? Yes. 

This 30/30 challenge is asking me to give my writing an attention that I give almost everything else in my life. If there were essays I had to grade or an end-of-year report deadline or a sick child or, or, or, I'd stay up and push through it. Because those things have a more visible and tangible payoff, I make time for them, even when there is no time. 

Last night, I did that for poetry. 

Here is an excerpt of "My Skunk Hour" (read the full poem on Tupelo Press' 30/30 blog):


"Let me be the skunk. Lady of the mercaptan

rich musk. Medusa of the trash heap,
a smell that hits you like stone."


Like Robert Lowell's infamous "Skunk Hour," this is a confessional poem; however, I am interested in presenting the skunk as a type of spirit animal.

The poem is a celebration of our ripest body, a type of reclamation of natural self, and it is arguing against the commodification of women’s beauty. Well, it may not be doing all of this yet, but it has plans.

I am so thankful to be doing this project, and I am astounded by the support my friends, family, and colleagues have shown. 

Twenty-four (24!) people have donated to support my participation and independent publishing, and though I have nineteen incentive requests to fill (since I've completed two), I can take many more, as it's possible for me to use five words, a title, and a topic or formal request on one poem. So if you're inclined, donate and send me your request. 

Yours in poetry,

Emari

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